The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1887-01-26

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check his progress.
Myra began to tremble, for even this
was enough to shake every nerve of her
slight frame. She lifted her pale hand,
put back the tresses from her temple,
and made a faint effort to lift her head
from the pillow, but in vain.
My ehild-my child refuse to see
her father7 / viii not believe itl"
Father! father~ broke from the lips
of that pale girl, and she sank on her
pillow gssping for breath.
All was hushed then, the door opened
softly, and through the gloom which
hung around her couch, Myra saw the
stately form of the old man who had so
long been her father. His face was
pale, and tears stood upon his cheek, as
he bent down and kissed her forehead
Myra smiled, and drawing deep breath
closed her eyes, and then opened them
| with a look of touching love.
/ Father
"My ehildr'
| The old man sat down with her hand
in his, and began smoothing the slender
| fingers with his other palm, as he had
| done so often in her childhood. This
little act brought a world of pleasant
old memories back to Myra's heart, one
after another, like dfops of cool dew
upon s half-blighted flower. She turned
gently, and placed her other hand in the
old mans palm.
He bent down and kissed the two
little hands he clasped in his.
"And mammal whispered Myra.
Your mamma has been pining for
her child, Myrs, and am here to take
you home again"
"But you hate him-you-you-"
The poor girl broke off with sudder.
mo. l will like him for your sake,
lover' was the kind reply.
Myra closed her eyes, and tears broke
through the dark lsshes.
The old man now smiled, as he saw
the tremuious JOY his words had brought
to that pale face.
"We will have the wedding at ID.
Place, and when you go away again,
Myra, it must not be without q bless
ing.
"Oh, papa, am so happy" whispered
the poor girl, drawing a deep breath.
She did not unclose her ewes again, but
a sweet placidity stole over her face,
and she fell into a calm sleep, the first
that had visited her eyelids in many a
long day and night.
Never had d. Place looked more
beautiful than it appeared on the day
when Myra returned to it, with her
happy father. The fine old building,
with all its surrounding trees, was bathed
in a flood of sunshine, that hung over
the whole landscape like the mist of
| bridal veil. The servants were all out
to receive their young mistress as she
alighted from the carriag even the
hunting dogs came whining nd yelping
| from their kennels, riotous With Joy, as
so many politicians the day after an
election.
Myra had smiles for all; but as her
eyes fell upon the gentle mother, who
had loved her so devotedly, the young
| girl broke away, her cheeks glowing,
her eyes full of tears, and threw herself
into the arms that were joyously opened
to receive her.
"Oh, mamma, / never expected to be
so happy againp' she cried, shaking
back her curls, and gazing upon the
| face of her mother with look of thrill
ing affection. But you are pale,
mammal
mo, not now; but | ara very, very
happy, Myra."
that she may leave US again, said Mr..
| D., with a frank smile, as his wife held
out one hand to welcome him, while the
other still clung to her child.
81 know, l know; but that is quite a
different thing" answered the happy
mother. drawing Myra into the house.
As Myrs passed up to her old room
she met the household traitor, who had
SO deliberately misrepresented his friend.
The man held out his hand.
No." said Myra, drawing back with
quiet contempt; ''for your children's
sake | have not exposed your baseness,
but there can be no friendship between
US in future
so because your father has changed,
I am to be censured for misrepresenta-
| ton" answered the man with consum-
mate self-possession. But this is the
usual reward of an honest endeayor to
serve"
Myra passed on, without reply.
Mr.. ID. WAS not a man to make partial
atonement for an error. A prompt and
urgent request was forwarded to Mr..
| Whitney and his parents, that they
| should make d. Place, and not Philadel-
phia, the destination of their journey.
Meantime every arrangement was
commenced for the wedding, and thus
Myra's path of life lay among blossoms
aud in the sunshine again. 1t was a
pleasant thing to wait then, for a world
of happiness seemed dawniug for her in
the future.
Mr.. Whitney came at last, and with
him the revered parent, whose consent
| to his sons marriage had been frankly
1 If,su flor all thar trials anh oAx Va
lures, the young couple were to be mar
ried quietly at last under the shelter of
home, surrounded by those who knew
rnd loved them best.
| You should have seen Myra Clark as
she came down the massive staircase in
her bridal dress that wedding might.
Her petite figure, graceful as a syIph,
was rendered still more ethereal by the
misty floating of her bridal veil. The
fragrance of few white blossoms foated
through her ringlets, and her small foot,
clad in its slipper of snowy satin, scarce
| ly seemed to touch the stairs as she
descended.
| Whitney stood by the open door ready
| to receive his bride. With her own
peculiar and feminine grace she met
him; the glow upon her cheek took a
deeper rose-tIDt as she lad her small
hand in his. She trembled little, just
enough to give fower-like tremor to
the folds of her veil, and for one instant
the shadow of deep thought swept over
her face.
The bridegroom was very tall, and
this gave to Myra look still more femi-
nine and ehild-like, as she stood by his
side.
care you ready, dearest?' he said,
bending gently over her.
She gave a faint start, and lifted her
large brown eyes to his with smile of
such deep love and holy trust, as seldom
Hooks up from a soul merely human.
That smile was answer enough. The
next moment they stood within the
broad light that flooded the drawing
room. A few words-a few murmured
blessings-perchance a few tears-for
the tears of affectionate regret are some
times the brightest jewels that can be
, cast at the feet of bride-and then
Myra Clark became wife.
ITO be Continusd1